


Closet Devils

by Bofur1



Series: Child's Play [4]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Closets, Don't Try This At Home, Family Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Food Fight, Gen, Humor, Kid Fic, Mischief, Prompt Fill, Surprises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 19:54:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1047927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Bofur1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin, Frerin, and Dís are left alone for a day and decide to make the most of it!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [in_a_blog_in_the_ground](https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_a_blog_in_the_ground/gifts).



> For my good friend's prompt: _"Some fluff for Thorin, Frerin, and Dís as kids. Maybe something mundane becomes this huge thing? Been kind of stressed lately, could do with a laugh :)"_
> 
>  
> 
> _  
> _I hope this helps you unwind, buddy!!_  
> _

“Where’s my red tunic, Malyan? Did those launderers ever give it back?”

“I’m not sure, love. I’ve been meaning to talk to them about their punctuality—or rather the lack of it. I was actually about to go down there today, but since this meeting came up...Ah, my dear forgetful Thráin, it’s right here in your closet.”

Thorin, leaning against the doorframe of his parents’ bedroom, couldn’t help but smile at his father’s sheepish expression as he took the clothing from his wife, Thorin’s mother Malyan. Thorin’s amusement faded, however, when he remembered why his father was searching for that particular tunic. It was the one Thráin wore when he took on the role of ambassador in a meeting of the races.

This latest Meeting was to take place in the nearby city of Dale and it was apparently a matter of great importance. It was not just the Royal Family who had been summoned. Brothers Fundin and Gróin, Captain of Guard and Royal Treasurer, were to attend as well with their wives Deallyra and Neanélla.

Although Thorin was the King’s birthright heir, he was still far too young and rambunctious at thirty-three years to go to a political meeting. Thus he and his siblings, Frerin and Dís, were to remain in Erabor until their parents returned.

“Ah, Thorin, sweetling,” Malyan noticed his presence. “I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to tell you that you’ll be in charge of your brother and sister. You make sure they behave and don’t wander about; they may get lost and that’s something we don’t want.”

Thorin nodded solemnly. “Yes, Ama.”

“Good lad.” Malyan bent down and kissed the top of Thorin’s head. “If you get hungry, I’ve set out a snack in your playroom.”

Thorin nodded again, letting the silk of his mother’s dress brush his fingers as she passed.

“You behave too, Thorin,” Thráin told his son sternly. Then his face softened and he whisked Thorin into the air. The prince yelped in surprised delight as he was plopped down on his father’s shoulder. Thorin remained there until Thráin reached Thrór’s side. The Prince seemed reluctant to lower Thorin to the ground, so Thrór did it for him, gently putting his hands around Thorin’s waist.

“Down you go, laddie,” he announced, setting Thorin firmly on the ground. Then he leaned in, his long beard brushing Thorin’s ear as he whispered, “You’ll be glad you stayed when you hear later about how dreary it was.”

Thorin giggled—not only at the words, but also because of the secret ideas that were brewing in the back of his mind. He watched his parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles depart and then turned, running back toward the front gates.

Thorin had promised to make his brother and sister behave, but he’d never said he’d make them behave _well_.

Frerin looked up at Thorin’s arrival in their playroom. “What’s the plan, Thor’?” he asked, voice filled with devious anticipation.

“What’s the plan?” Dís echoed, excitement pinking her pudgy cheeks.

Thorin crossed his arms authoritatively. “Frer’, Dísa, I have special missions for both of you. Now Ama said not to go wandering round or we’d get lost, so you need to complete these missions fast as you can and come back. Here’s what you’re going to do...”

Frerin and Dís listened attentively, mischievous grins growing wider and wider on their faces as Thorin laid the plan out before them. “...And like I said, you need to hurry,” he concluded. “So, are you two up for it?”

“Of course! I’ll be back fast as Mahal’s forging hammer,” Frerin boasted, straightening his handsome blue jacket.

Dís suddenly shouted, “Race!” and shoved Frerin off balance before bolting for the door. Thorin laughed as his two siblings scurried off in separate directions.


	2. Chapter 2

Thorin froze, each of his hands covering Dís and Frerin’s mouths as they heard the playroom door creak open.

“...I thought for sure they’d come to greet us at least,” Thráin remarked as he and his wife entered. “Perhaps they didn’t—Durin’s beard!”

“Well,” Malyan sighed knowingly. “I guess we know who got into the kitchens.”

“They—Durin’s beard,” Thráin gasped again. “How did they make off with so much without anyone’s notice?!”

“Probably went in one at a time and begged,” Malyan declared. “That cook Wéce has a soft spot for all of them!”

Thorin felt Frerin quiver with silent laughter at their mother’s words and pressed his hand harder against his lips to still him.

“And they’ve strewn it all over the floor,” Thráin groaned. “What a job this is going to be for the maids!”

“No, love,” Malyan disagreed. “We’ll let the makers of this mess clean it up.” Raising her voice she called out, “I hope that you heard that, my little ones, wherever you’re hiding!”

“Thráin, the stable boy promised to take care of the horses, but my wife and my brother's wife insist on helping. Oh,” Fundin’s deep voice sounded. “What’s happened here?”

Gróin appeared next. “Fundin, brother of mine, have you seen—by the Maker, I thought _my_ lads made a mess!”

“Th-Their messes usually aren’t this bad,” Thráin stammered, embarrassed. “I don’t see what it was about today that encouraged this—”

“I think _I_ see,” Malyan said slowly. “They were encouraged to do this because _all_ of us were gone.”

Gróin drew in a sharp breath. “Oh, Lord Mahal, don’t tell me...”

A yelp burst from Thorin’s throat as the closet door burst open. Gigantic Fundin loomed over them, arms crossed ominously.

“Well, well, well,” he rumbled. “Look who we have in here.”

A collective gulp from all the Dwarflings in the closet. Malyan, Thráin, and Gróin peered around Fundin’s broad shoulders and expressions of understanding dawned on their faces.

“Thorin. Frerin. Dís.” Thráin’s ire was barely constrained. “What have I explained to you about inviting your cousins over without permission?”

Balin, Dwalin, Óin, and Glóin simultaneously flinched.

“Come on out, everyone,” Gróin ordered firmly. The Dwarflings came out and stood in a fidgeting, shoulder-hunching line, eyeing the adults warily.

“How did this happen?” Thráin demanded, sweeping an arm at the surrounding food-spattered area. “Why were you—?”

“Food fight,” Frerin explained guiltily.

Thráin nodded. “Aha. Who started it?”

Unable to keep quiet, Dís waved her hand slightly. At her mother’s raised eyebrow, Dís blurted, “But it was Balin’s fault!”

Gróin, to the surprise of all, burst out laughing. “If I know my nephew well, I know he absolutely despises food if it’s in the air and not on his plate. He wouldn’t instigate anything like that.”

“Well, that’s why it started,” Dís mumbled, glancing down to hide a smile. “He’s just so fun to hit.”

If looks could kill, Balin would have committed murder of royalty. “Of course I had to defend myself after you hit me in the face with a piece of lemon cake!” he snapped. “Now the frosting’s all dried in my beard!” Dís stuck out her tongue in response.

“Enough,” Thráin cut in. “Who had the grandest, most cliché  idea of hiding in the closet?”

There was a silence. With the eye of a skilled Captain and a father, Fundin noticed Dwalin’s grimace deepen slightly.

“Ah, my youngest. If you want to join the Guard someday, you’d best work on your strategizing.”

“Well, now, little lords and lady. Because you were all so very helpful to each other in making this mess, I’m sure you’ll all be very enthusiastic in helping each other clean it up,” Malyan announced, smiling wryly.

As he slunk off with a cleaning rag in hand, Thorin crossly acknowledged that this would be a day to remember.


End file.
